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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26429338">kiss me in the moonlight with the taste of a song on your lips</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryFandomHybrid/pseuds/EveryFandomHybrid'>EveryFandomHybrid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Singing, Slow Dancing, because jerome likes blood and you cant convince me otherwise, bruce and jerome just being soft and wholesome kind of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:28:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,137</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26429338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryFandomHybrid/pseuds/EveryFandomHybrid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you want?” Bruce asks warily.</p>
<p>“A pony,” Jerome says, completely serious until a smile breaks through his act. “Dance with me, darlin’.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jerome Valeska/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>120</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>kiss me in the moonlight with the taste of a song on your lips</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you want to know the pace for the song, I wrote it to a slowed version of Can't Take My Eyes Off You</p>
<p>Also I decided to experiment with present tense and I kind of liked how it turned out! Might do more of that in the future</p>
<p>The original prompt I wrote for this was for Jerome serenading Bruce outside his window but it turned out differently (i'm still happy with it though)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Bruce wakes up, it’s still dark outside and moonlight is filtering in through his window. He tries to shake off the residual heaviness of sleep and the faint memory of a dream clinging onto the edge of his subconscious. A glance at his clock tells him that it’s only half past midnight, so what had woken him up?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His question is answered by the sound of something hard hitting his window. And then another. It’s a sharp and solid sound––rocks, maybe? But who would be throwing rocks at his window at midnight? He only has one friend, and if it’s Selina, wouldn’t she just come in through the window like usual?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce throws his covers off of himself and slides out of bed, before carefully making his way over to the window. When he looks out the window, he sees a dark figure, too shrouded by the shadows of night for him to actually make out their features. Though if he had to guess, he’d say that they’re probably a young adult. Male, maybe?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before he can ponder on that for too long, another rock hits his window. He barely flinches. Then he sighs and unlocks his window, opening it and stepping to the side. He doesn’t particularly fancy getting hit in the face by a rock at midnight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, the person seems to notice that Bruce opened his window, as they give him a wave and motion for him to come down. Something about the situation definitely seems suspicious to Bruce, and knowing his luck and Gotham, it probably isn’t a good thing. Still, it might be worth the risk to go down. What if it’s important? What if something bad will happen if he doesn’t go down?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Plus, Bruce can handle himself if need be. He’s had a few weeks to train since the last time he saw Jerome, (he still shudders to think about what happened, and it’s woken him up in the middle of the night a few times) so he’s even more skilled at fighting now. And knowing Alfred, he wouldn’t let Bruce go outside in the middle of the night to meet a potential murderer, but when has Bruce been known to stay out of trouble? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So naturally, Bruce sneaks down the stairs and to the front door. When he opens the front door though, a hand suddenly covers his mouth and he’s pulled against someone’s chest. Then a familiar, raspy voice whispers in his left ear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey there, Brucie. It’s been a while.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce freezes up at the sound of Jerome’s voice. Jerome is supposed to be locked up in Arkham, right? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hand over his mouth slowly moves down, and Bruce opens his mouth––to scream or to say something? Even he’s not sure––but then Jerome is speaking over him, his voice soft and threatening.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, ah, ah, Brucie. If you scream or try anything, I’ll press this fun little button right here,” Jerome says and holds up a small cylinder in front of Bruce. “And I don’t think you’ll like what happens when I press the button.” Bruce doesn’t respond, and Jerome growls in frustration. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Will you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, darlin’?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce nods and tries to ignore the feeling he gets in his stomach at Jerome calling him that. It’s probably just dread anyways.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. Now, let's go inside and have a chat, hm?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce is released from Jerome’s hold and he briefly considers just punching him in his stitched-on face, (which is actually healing surprisingly well, considering it was cut off, stapled on, and then punched off only a few weeks ago) but that might not go well, and could end with innocent lives being endangered. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oblivious to Bruce’s conflicted train of thought, Jerome pushes past him and into his house, raising his arms wide and twirling in a slow, dramatic circle. Ever the showman. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Geez, Brucie,” Jerome says with an appreciative whistle. “I swear it gets even more impressive every time I’m here!” He turns around to look at Bruce with a glint of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his eyes. “Doesn’t it get lonely?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Bruce says simply, not wanting to waste more energy on the madman than he has to. He hesitantly follows Jerome inside and closes the door behind him. It feels wrong to have him in his house. Too invasive, too personal. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shame,” Jerome sighs, and he actually looks disappointed. Then a smile spreads across his face, eerily tugging at the scarred skin. “Say, does this place have food? I’m starved.” As if to prove his point, Jerome’s stomach growls only seconds later. “It takes a lot out of a person to escape Arkham, y’know?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce nods. “In the kitchen.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you sure are as talkative as usual, aren’t you?” Jerome says, voice dripping with sarcasm as he turns around and starts walking deeper into Bruce’s house. Then he turns back around. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where the kitchen actually is, would you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce sighs and fights the urge to do something stupid, like punching Jerome, or facepalming, or rolling his eyes. The complete and utter levels of dumbassery in Jerome never cease to amaze and bewilder Bruce. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With that thought in mind, Bruce leads Jerome to his kitchen. Jerome immediately rushes to the fridge and opens it with a violent tug, nearly sending the door right into Bruce. There’s the sound of Jerome shuffling around before he finally makes a noise of triumph and pulls his head out of the fridge to grin at Bruce. He’s holding a familiar, red can.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t eat all of my whipped cream.” Is all Bruce says before Jerome is tilting his head back and pressing on the nozzle. It sputters pathetically and then Jerome is looking at it in betrayal and confusion. Bruce finds himself once again resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “You need to shake it first.” Dumbass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jerome blinks at him and then hesitantly shakes it for all of three seconds before trying again. This time, the whipped cream actually comes out and Jerome sends Bruce an appreciative look, like Bruce had just helped him hide a body or something.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, that’s how Bruce ends up sitting at the table, at midnight, conversing with Jerome Valeska while he eats all of Bruce’s whipped cream. Not exactly how Bruce had expected his evening to go, but overall it could be worse. At least no one’s died. Yet. He isn’t about to cross that off the list of ‘Things That Can Go Horribly Wrong Today’ just yet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Jerome finishes off the last of the whipped cream (he ate a whole can), there’s whipped cream and disappointment all over his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna need you to buy more of this stuff,” Jerome says, licking his lips. There’s still whipped cream on his nose. Bruce swears he can see a few flecks of white in his hair too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because it’s good, and you’re practically bleeding gold out of your pretty little veins,” Jerome states, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. To him, it probably is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If I buy more, you’re not getting any,” Bruce says with an air of finality. Jerome isn’t coming back to his house, not if Bruce can help it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re no fun,” Jerome says with an exaggerated pout, and he actually looks slightly upset at the prospect of not getting any more whipped cream. Then he claps his hands together and leans forward over the table. “Anyways! Take me to your bedroom.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce blinks once. Twice. “...What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Take me to your bedroom, darlin’,” Jerome repeats, grinning. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Bruce refuses. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s the one with the boom button here?” Jerome asks, grin falling off his face. It doesn’t fall far before it’s back again. “Come on, I don’t bite. Much.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce wearily nods, because he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, and he’s just so very tired from dealing with Jerome. And lack of sleep, that too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He leads Jerome upstairs and to his room, pushing the door open. “There, happy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh darlin’,” Jerome croons. “I’m always happy when you’re around.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? Because it didn’t really seem like that when you were trying to kill me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jerome waves his hand. “Bygones. Things change. I didn’t realize it then, but I realize it now. Realized it a few weeks ago, actually. While I was alone with my thoughts in Arkham.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Realized what?” Bruce isn’t sure he really wants to know.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to kill you, Brucie. No, no. You’re too interesting for that,” Jerome says. He doesn’t elaborate. Instead he falls back onto Bruce’s bed with his arms splayed out. “Oh, I could stay here forever. Can I steal your bed?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aww, c’mon, Brucie. You have plenty of money, just buy another one!” Jerome exclaims.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I like my bed just the way it is, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you? Then why don’t you come join me?” Jerome asks, a threatening undertone to his voice. A reminder that bad things will happen if Bruce doesn’t comply.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So Bruce hesitantly walks forward and sits down on the edge of his bed. Jerome grins at him, and that’s all the warning Bruce gets before he’s pulled down so that he’s lying down and facing Jerome.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because we’re going to have a sleepover and gossip like girls do in the movies, darlin’,” Jerome says with a grin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, but I think I’d prefer death,” Bruce deadpans. He tries to pull away from Jerome, but he’s pulled closed when Jerome grabs the front of his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That can be arranged,” Jerome growls. “Just, not your death, of course.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce freezes at the reminder and glares at Jerome, who just chuckles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, what gossip do you have, Brucie?” Jerome asks. Bruce silently glares at him. “Come on, don’t be like that.” Bruce still doesn’t say anything. “Fine, I’ll go first. I saw a specific cat kissing someone else on the playground.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce ignores the pang of hurt at that. “You’re lying.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I? Why don’t you just ask your girlfriend if she’s been cheating on you, then?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bruce says, trying––and failing––to keep the bitter tone out of his voice. Jerome seems to perk up at this, his eyes wide with interest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” Jerome smirks. “Does this mean that you’re up for grabs?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jerome sighs wistfully. “That’s a shame.” Then he’s pulling away from Bruce and rolling off the bed. “Come here, Brucie.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce gets out of his bed and walks over to Jerome, stopping a few feet away from him. “What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A pony,” Jerome says, completely serious until a smile breaks through his act. “Dance with me, darlin’.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s no music,” Bruce argues weakly. He doesn’t particularly want to dance with someone who’s nearly killed him twice and has killed countless other people.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jerome seems to contemplate that for a second, before he pulls a phone out of his pocket. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where did you get a phone?” Bruce asks, concerned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” Jerome looks up at him. “Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t kill anyone for it. Just mild theft. With a side of threatening for the password, of course.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That doesn’t do much to quiet Bruce’s concerns, but at least Jerome didn’t kill anyone. Hopefully. He could be lying, after all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then music starts to quietly filter into the room, and Jerome puts the phone down on the night table by Bruce’s bed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before Bruce knows it, Jerome is holding both of his hands and pulling him close. Bruce instinctively flinches away, but Jerome squeezes his hands in warning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you even know how to dance?” Bruce asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Who do you take me for? Of course not,” Jerome says with a scoff. He lets go of his hold of Bruce’s hands. “Teach me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce sighs, but nods. He’d never actually taught someone to dance before, but it couldn’t be too hard, right? “What type of dance?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A slow dance, of course,” Jerome says, grinning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. So,” Bruce starts, grabbing Jerome’s hand with his left and raising it up. “This is where one hand goes. The other–” Bruce pauses to hesitantly slide his right hand around Jerome to place it in the middle of his back. “–goes here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Bruce looks up at Jerome, there’s something vulnerable in his expression, but it’s gone before Bruce can get a good look at it. He wonders if Jerome has ever actually been touched in a gentle way, one that doesn’t promise pain. He doesn’t get too long to wonder about that, because Jerome is gently placing his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Like this?” Jerome asks, the usual malice missing from his voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That works,” Bruce confirms. “Then you just move your feet like this,” Bruce says and demonstrates, stepping out to the side, before pulling his other foot to touch his outstretched one. Jerome stumbles a bit at the sudden movement, before mimicking Bruce.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And then?” Jerome prompts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then we just continue like that. In a circle, around the room, back and forth in place––it doesn’t matter,” Bruce explains to the best of his ability. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jerome smiles at him and they idly continue stepping back and forth in the same spot. It’s quiet for a few minutes and Bruce can almost pretend that he’s dancing with someone who didn’t murder countless people. It’s peaceful. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then the song slows to a stop, and another song begins. This seems to make something light up in Jerome’s eyes, and he leans forward to touch their foreheads together. It’s strangely intimate and makes something flutter in Bruce’s stomach. He stubbornly ignores the feeling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the lyrics start, Jerome closes his eyes and starts humming along under his breath softly. Bruce closes his eyes too and tries to relax and pretend that he’s dancing with anyone else. Which is why he’s particularly caught off guard and opens his eyes in surprise when Jerome starts softly singing along with the song. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re just too good to be true…” Jerome starts. He’s surprisingly good at singing, Bruce notes. “Can’t take my eyes off of you.” Jerome opens his eyes to make eye contact with Bruce. “Pardon the way that I stare, there’s nothin’ else to compare. The sight of you leaves me weak, there are no words left to speak.” Jerome winks at Bruce and smiles. “But if you feel like I feel, please let me know that it’s real. You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jerome goes silent when the lyrics fade out to leave only the music. Then he grins at Bruce and picks up when the lyrics start again. He’s louder to match the song, but still careful enough to control his voice so that Alfred doesn’t hear and wake up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you baby! And if it’s quite alright, I need you baby, to warm the lonely night. I love you baby, trust in me when I say… oh, pretty baby! Don’t bring me down, I pray. Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay.” What throws Bruce off about the next lyrics that Jerome sings, is the sincerity in his eyes. “And let me love you, baby, let me love you…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce is almost tempted to start humming along, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just feels a soft smile spread across his face, almost against his will. He ignores it and tunes back into Jerome’s singing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...You’d be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much,” Jerome sings and carefully pulls Bruce closer to him. “At long last, love has arrived, and I thank god I’m alive. You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you…” As the song starts to get closer to the end––lyrics pausing at another musical interlude––Bruce becomes hyper aware of how intimate the moment seems. Then Jerome starts singing along again. “I love you baby! And if it’s quite alright, I need you baby, to warm the lonely night. I love you baby, trust in me when I say… oh, pretty baby! Don’t bring me down, I pray. Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay. Oh, pretty baby, trust in me when I say…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The song trails off and becomes quieter after that. And then Jerome is slowly leaning in towards Bruce and pressing his lips against Bruce’s own. After a second of surprise, Bruce leans into Jerome and returns the kiss. He doesn’t think about what he’s doing when he untangles his left hand from where it’s holding Jerome’s hand so that he can bury it in Jerome’s hair and pull him closer. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jerome is the first to pull away and Bruce blinks in surprise. He looks up at Jerome, staring with fascination at the way his eyes are filled with fondness and something fragile. Jerome, probably sensing the way Bruce is trying to peer directly through the cracks in his usual facade, pulls Bruce into another kiss. It’s nothing like kissing Selina––kissing her is like kissing the stars, chaste and gentle with a spark of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Kissing Jerome is like kissing the sun. It’s consuming and passionate, like a fire being lit in Bruce’s very soul. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Bruce pulls back for air, Bruce refuses to stop and think about what he’s doing, instead pulling Jerome into another kiss. Then Jerome is pushing him back until Bruce’s legs hit the bed and he falls back, with Jerome on top of him. Jerome grins at him, the soft look from earlier replaced with something predatory and hungry. Then Jerome leans down to kiss Bruce again, nipping at his lip hard enough to draw blood. Bruce winces at the sting of pain and the taste of metal, pulling back from Jerome. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jerome gives him a smile and leans forward to lick the blood off of Bruce’s lips. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that ever since I first saw you with blood on your lips at the carnival.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean the blood of a person you stabbed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jerome doesn’t answer Bruce, instead kissing him again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce pulls away and glares at him without any real heat behind it. “You can’t just kiss me every time you don’t want to say something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Spoilsport,” Jerome grumbles and pushes himself off of Bruce. Then he moves to lie down with his head on a pillow and pats the space beside him. Bruce sits up and moves to lie next to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce turns his head to look at Jerome, studying his face. When Jerome turns his head to meet Bruce’s eyes, he feels heat rise to his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re adorable,” Jerome says with a chuckle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re a pain in the ass,” Bruce retorts with a glare. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can be, if you want me to,” Jerome says and Bruce feels his face grow even hotter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Bruce grumbles and turns his head to look up at the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aww, don’t be like that, darlin’,” Jerome croons. The bed shifts beside Bruce and then Jerome is on top of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce glares up at him, but Jerome just smiles and presses a chaste kiss to Bruce’s nose. It’s surprisingly sweet of him––something that Bruce hadn’t expected from him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please tell me you’re not a hopeless romantic,” Bruce says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am, and now you’re stuck with me,” Jerome confirms, much to Bruce’s chagrin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who says I’m stuck with you?” Bruce asks with a grin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do. You kissed me back, so now you’re stuck with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm, you make that sound like it’s a bad thing,” Bruce says, and maybe it is. Because Jerome has tried to kill him twice, and done so much worse to others. But Bruce had seen something in Jerome, something human, and maybe it meant that he could still be saved.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t it?” Jerome questions, looking genuinely confused at the fact that Bruce doesn’t view being stuck with him as a bad thing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Bruce says and leans up to kiss Jerome on the cheek. “It’s not a bad thing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And here I thought you hated me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I did, as of an hour ago. Maybe I did before you let me see who you really are.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And who’s that?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone who was hurt unforgivably by the world and learned to survive on spite and anger alone, because all you knew was cruelty,” Bruce explains and watches a mix of anger and pain flash through Jerome’s eyes. Before Jerome can do something with that anger, Bruce leans up and kisses him softly on the lips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That seems to calm Jerome, as he looks down at Bruce with fascination in his eyes. “How is it that you, my little dark prince, richest boy in Gotham, managed to see right through me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I’ve been there before, the day my parents were shot in that alley. I was so full of anger and pain and I just wanted someone to pay for what they’d done. I wanted the whole world to pay for taking away my parents, because it wasn’t fair. The difference between you and me is that I didn’t let out that anger.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you still don’t, don’t you?” Jerome says, lightly tracing a finger over Bruce’s cheeks. “You almost did, in the mirror maze. You were so beautiful, all righteous fury and passion.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce remembers what he looked like then. He’d seen himself in the mirror, and he hadn’t recognized the person staring back at him. “Maybe.” Is all Bruce says, before he pulls Jerome down into a kiss. Jerome smiles against Bruce’s lips and licks at the now drying blood before pulling away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now who’s avoiding talking by kissing me?” Jerome asks with a smirk. “Not that I mind. I could kiss you all night, darlin’.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce looks up at him innocently and kisses him again. “Jerome?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Does the button even do anything?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jerome laughs. “No. It isn’t connected to anything. It’s just a button.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Bruce says and kisses Jerome on the nose, a mirror of what Jerome had done earlier. “I can’t believe you sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“To be fair, I did escape Arkham just to see you. I wasn’t really planning on blowing anything up,” Jerome argues.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just to see me? Why?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you’re my little dark prince and I missed you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How sweet,” Bruce deadpans. “Are you planning on going back?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, maybe I can be convinced to stay the night before I go back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm? And how do you expect me to do that?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, you’re crafty. Make something up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Bruce pretends to think for a second before locking his legs around Jerome’s and rolling them over so he’s on top of Jerome. “How about this?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Go on…” Jerome coaxes him with a smirk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce leans down and kisses Jerome, nipping at his lip experimentally. Jerome groans and wraps one arm around Bruce’s back and moves his other hand to grab Bruce’s hair. When Bruce pulls back, Jerome tugs Bruce’s hair to expose his throat and bites down at the junction between his neck and collarbone. Bruce lets out a hiss of pain when Jerome bites deep enough to draw blood and Jerome pulls back to examine his handiwork. He makes a satisfied noise and licks the bite mark once for good measure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m starting to think you’re either a vampire or you have a thing for blood,” Bruce says with a teasing smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You caught me,” Jerome admits with no shame whatsoever. “I also might have a thing for your pretty pink throat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you do,” Bruce says and rolls off of Jerome to lie beside him. At Jerome’s confused and slightly disappointed look, he elaborated. “It’s nearly two in the morning, Jerome. I need sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shame. Guess I’ll just have to see you again some other time when you don’t need sleep,” Jerome says and starts to move away from Bruce.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce grabs his arm before he can get far. “Wait.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay, please,” Bruce says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jerome stares at him, eyes searching his face for something. He seems to find whatever he was looking for, because he slides back into the bed next to Bruce. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce smiles at him and rolls over to face away from Jerome. “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jerome shifts until he’s right next to Bruce, and wraps an arm over his waist. Then he tucks his face into Bruce’s neck, right where he’d bitten him. He presses a gentle kiss to the spot. “Sweet dreams, my dark prince.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You too, Jerome,” Bruce says, already starting to drift off to sleep. His last conscious thought is that he would have so much explaining to do if Alfred has to wake him up in the morning.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
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